


Richness of Soul

by VerdiWithin



Series: Talisman [40]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Controlling mother, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, F/M, Family Drama, Friendship, Idiots in Love, Murder, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdiWithin/pseuds/VerdiWithin
Summary: Persephone and Hades deal with the consequences of Demeter’s letter, and Psyche’s apotheosis is approaching.
Relationships: Eros/Psyche (Lore Olympus), Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Series: Talisman [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497371
Comments: 27
Kudos: 241





	Richness of Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for domestic violence, murder, mentioned workplace sexual coercion.
> 
> Previously in this series:
> 
> Demeter discovered Persephone and Hades in bed together. Persephone recently healed Zeus’s impotence, using the crystal she received from Gaia. Zeus agreed to allow Psyche to be made immortal. Demeter sent Persephone a letter, accusing Hades of sexual coercion, and promising to rescue Persephone.

I sit at my desk. I can’t concentrate. I just keep thinking about that  _ fucking _ letter Demeter sent. The implication that I--that I would  _ ever _ \--  _ Shit! _ The things she said on Saturday--I guess I just excused all those, because tempers were running hot. I imagined she would calm down somewhat, and think rationally. Maybe be upset with me, but  _ this-- _

Persephone wanted to go speak to her lawyer by herself, and I understand that. Independence is important to her, and since I’ve just been accused of  _ coercing _ her, it makes sense to go on her own. I'm ashamed that Hecate had to explain it to me, but I get it now. Appearances matter, particularly in a delicate situation like this.

I want to  _ break _ something. I fully understand Persephone’s wild impulse to shatter all her windows. I clamp my hand on the edge of my desk and tighten until the black granite begins to creak under the strain. I sigh. I shouldn’t do that. It won’t help.

It would be better to do something constructive with my time, while I wait. I squeeze my fist and unleash a trickle of power. When I open my hand, there’s a large, polished diamond resting on my palm. Not bad. I dig in my desk drawer and take out a black velvet tray, and a loupe. I get to work. 

***

The familiar flow of my most basic power starts to relax me. I make a large pile of different-sized white diamonds, and smaller piles of pink diamonds, black diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. I’m missing some colors. I should make some amethysts and topazes, I suppose.

It’s been a couple of hours since Persephone left, and it’s well past our normal time for going home. I pick up my phone to check for messages, but there’s nothing from her. I’m getting very hungry, but I still keep producing stones. They’ll come in handy soon. I hope. 

I focus carefully and begin work on a very large diamond. It takes more effort to make larger stones, to keep the crystal structure stable while assembling more material. I push as hard as I’ve ever done before, and end up with a round-cut stone as large as a coin. I’m pleased. I should make a matching one. I start on that, but a sound interrupts me: the door at the bottom of my stairs opening.

I rise from my desk and hurry over to the stairs, looking down at Persephone climbing toward me. I run down as she scurries up, and we meet in the middle. I sit down on the stairs so we can hug without falling down, and she slides right into my lap.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper into her hair.

“Where else would I be, Aidoneus?” 

Her words make me quiver with love and relief. I squeeze her tight to my chest. “I don’t know. I was afraid, though.”

“I’m so sorry! I should have texted you, so you wouldn’t worry.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to accommodate me when I’m being irrational.” 

Persephone sighs, and leans back so she can look at me. “It isn’t irrational, unfortunately. Nemesis believes there are some legal routes my mother could try that would be challenging.”

“Challenging how?” No one has the right to remove a citizen from the Underworld by force, not without my permission. Which Demeter obviously will never receive.

“She has legal rights to determine my future. She even technically has the right to control my money.”

I snort. “Not in the Underworld.”

“I know, but it’s something she could try. Nemesis drafted a letter to the bank, to make sure they’re aware and won’t let it happen. And we wrote a letter to my mother as well, saying that she’s under a false impression. Not that it will do much good, but Nemesis thought it was important to establish.”

“Okay. What else did she suggest?”

“Well, it would be good if you could talk to your brother for me. Keep her from trying something there.”

“Of course I will. I thought about calling him already, but I didn’t want to do that without your say-so.”

Persephone nods and touches my cheek. “Nemesis says it was a good precaution to make me a citizen, and it may help. But everything else we can do is basically a delaying action. Legally speaking, I’m not much more than my mother’s property.”

I open my mouth to ask her and shut it with a snap. How can I think that offering her marriage in this situation is the right thing to do? She’s being torn apart by Demeter’s actions, and our insanely outdated laws. Offering to let her become  _ my _ property instead is just nauseating.

“You’re safe here. You know that, right?”

She nods, and sniffles, holding onto her tears. “I know. And I love it here, and I love you, but that’s not a good long-term solution. If nothing else, I have duties in the Mortal Realm when Spring comes.”

I kiss her forehead. “We’ll figure it out, Sweetness. I promise.”

*******

Persephone has terrible dreams in the night. She wakes up wailing about doors and darkness, and I hold her for a long time while she trembles. She won’t talk about it, and is reluctant to go back to sleep. She promises she’ll talk to her therapist about it, and I hope she will. I want to help her and I don't know how. She looks so hollow this morning that I’m very worried for her. I want this thing with her mother to be resolved already--it’s so much stress on her. I’m doing my best to not add to her burdens. 

I don’t feel good about proposing to her with this thing hanging over us. It feels like I would be taking advantage of her emotional vulnerability by asking a question like that. Trying to trick her into accepting me by preying on her when she’s in a precarious position. Or something.

Persephone emerges from the bathroom, still damp from the shower, and comes into the dressing room where I’m getting ready for the day. She’s wearing only a towel, lightly wrapped around her body. She’s deeply focused on something, and doesn’t even glance at me. I catch the sound of her voice, muttering as she assembles her clothes for the day. Her breasts are barely contained by that towel, and she’s incomparably lovely.

“I brought your tea,” I tell her. “It’s on the dresser.”

“Thank you,” she replies absently, and starts to get dressed.

Usually I get a kiss for bringing her tea, but she’s too distracted. 

I stand by the tie rack, looking over my choices, and select a deep pink one that I bought recently. It has a matching pocket square, too. As I knot the tie, I watch Persephone, as subtly as I can. She takes a dress out of a bag, obviously a recent purchase, and slips it on. It’s lovely, with interesting pleats and folds. She crosses over to me.

“Could you zip me?”

“Of course.” 

I slide the zipper up, and then gently stroke the back of her neck with my knuckles. Persephone turns to look over her shoulder at me. I’m not sure I should impose on her, but she’s waiting expectantly. I lean down slowly and kiss her nape, as I usually do after executing my essential function as zipper operator.

“Thank you,” Persephone murmurs, still looking at me.

“You’re welcome. You look beautiful. Is it a new dress?”

“Yes. I have lunch with Hera and Amphitrite today.”

“Right, of course.”

I put on my jacket and load up my pockets with all my paraphernalia. Persephone slips on a pair of shoes and we’re both ready. We walk downstairs hand in hand, and sit together having a plain breakfast of fruit and cereal. Which feels very weird. 

I glance back and forth between the real-life wonderful Persephone next to me, and the sweet cartoonish Persephone on the box of Barley Mother. She doesn’t seem to notice that we’re eating her mother’s product, or the irony of doing so. She’s lost in thought. Quiet and closed, processing her emotions. I know she gets like this. I know it’s not personal, and I shouldn’t feel insecure or resentful because of it.

The doorbell rings and I rise to go answer it. It turns out it’s a furniture delivery, and I forgot that it was coming. It’s a good thing we hadn’t left for work yet. Persephone comes in as I’m directing the delivery men up the stairs.

“What’s this?” she asks.

“You remember that day we bought the rugs? Well, I also ordered a couch for the bedroom. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh.”

We follow the workers up the stairs and watch while they set up the new piece. When they’re finished, I escort the delivery men back down, offering them a tip as I show them to the door. I return to the bedroom to find Persephone sitting on the new couch.

“It’s, uh, very unusual, isn’t it?” she says.

The new piece is covered in black leather, but there its resemblance to conventional furniture ends. It’s narrow and shaped like two bumps, one higher than the other, with a dip in between. It has no arms or back.

“Um, yeah. Eros suggested I get it.” I feel really embarrassed about this. The timing of this delivery could hardly be worse. “It’s, um. It’s supposed to be really comfortable.” I feel my cheeks warming, but Persephone just watches me. “For, well, it’s for sex. I thought, because of our height difference, it might be good for you. And you like being on top so much. Of course this is before I knew of your fondness for hammocks…” Shit, I’m babbling. I force myself to shut up.

“Oh…” Persephone says. She gets up from the couch and looks at it. I can almost picture what she’s visualizing. “Huh.”

The moment stretches without a further reaction from her, and I feel like a  _ complete _ ass. Why did I think this would be a good thing to surprise her with? Why am I such a fucking creep, thinking about sex all the time?

I’m struggling to find the right thing to say, to defuse the situation. Persephone’s gracious nature saves me. “It’s very thoughtful of you, Smush. Thank you.” She tugs on my lapel and I bend down into a sweet kiss. 

***

When we enter the elevator in Tower One, Persephone seems to make an effort to focus. She reaches out to take my hand. “You look really nice today,” she says. “I like that style of suit on you.”

“Oh! Thank you.” I’m extremely pleased she noticed. I chose a double-breasted suit today with her in mind, as I know she likes the look. And the tie and pocket square, obviously. 

“I pressed the button for my floor, but I don’t know if it even makes sense to go to my office,” she observes.

“It’ll probably take a couple days to get your windows repaired. Why don’t you come up and work in my office?”

Persephone looks troubled. She apologized multiple times for the damage, and she probably realizes that more apologies would be overdoing it. “Wouldn’t I be in your way?”

“Not at all. Think how much we get done in our working lunches. It’ll be like that all the time.”

She snorts in amusement. “Think how much we get distracted.”

“And? I like it when you distract me.”

She shakes her head, but accompanies me to my office, and stakes out some space at the conference table with her laptop, pad, and pens.

I spend a bit of time doing the initial morning round of email and report reading, while Persephone does the same. I keep glancing up at her, watching her posture while she reads, her moving fingers when she types. She’s sitting with her back to me, but every so often I catch a glimpse of her profile.

When I finish my first pass through my inbox, I check my schedule for today. 

“Kore, I’m ready to call Zeus now, if you like.”

“Okay,” she replies, looking up. “I already heard from Nemesis this morning. She sent the letters to my mother and to the bank.”

“That’s good.” I move to the couch, and dial my brother. Persephone sits down opposite me, and folds her hands.

“Well, you’re up bright and early,” says Zeus on the phone.

“They say there’s no rest for the wicked. Demeter sent Persephone a letter yesterday. I just sent you a picture of it.”

“Hold on, opening it now. Hm, yeah, okay--oh, shit! That’s...pretty vicious.”

“Yeah. So you haven’t heard from her yet?”

“No, do you really think she'll try that? After Saturday she can’t imagine I’d be on her side of this.”

“I think Demeter will do whatever she perceives to be necessary.” I’m watching Persephone as I say it, and she nods and sighs, folding her arms across her body.

“Okay, well. I agreed not to interfere in Persephone’s personal life, or let anyone else do so. I will honor that, of course. But I didn’t agree not to interfere in  _ your _ personal life,” Zeus says. The gloating jerk. He really needs to tweak me,  _ now? _

I sigh. “And what does that mean?”

“It means: why don’t you just marry her? Don’t you get that it would solve all your problems?”

“I’m aware.” That shithead, talking like it’s no big deal. Like leaping into marriage to solve a legal problem doesn’t subvert the entire  _ meaning _ of marriage. “This is a complete reversal for you.”

“Yeah, what can I say, that shit with Thetis really did a number on me.”

Time to throw him a bone. “I know that, and I appreciate your help in this matter. But you will definitely spike Demeter’s legal argument?”

“I will do that. Can I talk to Persephone? She’s there, right?”

“Um, yeah. Hold on.” I hold out my phone to her. “He wants to talk to you.”

Her eyes widen, but she takes the phone without comment. “Hello?”

I watch her for several minutes as she listens, making only occasional, brief replies. She plays with the ends of her long hair with her free hand, twirling it around her finger nervously. It looks very soft and I wish I could do that, too. Then I think: why can’t I? Persephone is struggling to process her emotions and figure out a way forward, but why wouldn’t she welcome my touching her?

I get up from my couch and cross over to hers. I sit next to her and she turns her back, settling against me, her head on my chest. I comb my fingers through her hair. It’s just as silky as I remember. She sighs softly, looking up at me, still holding the phone to her ear.

Eventually Persephone says goodbye to my brother and ends the call, handing the phone back to me. “He said not to worry. That he would keep her off my back. Do you think I can trust that?”

I consider. “Probably. He’s in best-behavior mode lately.”

We stay on the couch like that, snuggling, until Hecate comes in for the daily status meeting.

***

I’m on my way to court in the afternoon when I get a call from Hera.

“I only have a minute,” I say. “What can I do for you?”

“You can stop torturing that poor girl, for one thing,” she says, her voice caustic.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you waiting for my blessing? Because you have it.”

Oh. It’s the same thing again. “Did--did Persephone say something to you? About marriage?” It’s possible that Hera and Amphitrite interrogated her over lunch.

“Of course she didn’t! She’s modest to the point of shyness in some areas. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t obvious. Seriously, Hades, what’s the matter?”

“ _ Timing _ is the matter. I gotta go.” I end the call. I wish my nosy relatives would stay out of this. I don’t need encouragement to want to propose to Persephone, but the circumstances make things very awkward.

***

After court, I return to my office, and find Persephone sitting at the conference table again, banging aggressively on her laptop. She’s completely focused, so I let her be, sitting at my desk and catching up on email. 

It’s true I can’t maintain focus very well, with my lovely goddess so nearby. I look up from my computer to stare at Persephone instead. She seems to be rather upset, and not just about a momentary thing. She’s gnawing on her thumb and staring off into space, swaying back and forth in her seat.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She glances up at me as I approach her. “Sorry. Lunch was a little… challenging.”

“Oh. Was Hera back on her resentment thing?”

“Kind of. She was a bit snarky to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Persephone waves this aside. “Nothing I can’t cope with, and Amphitrite was there, anyway. But she also told me some stories about my mother before the Titanomachy. I just… didn’t like hearing it much.”

“Oh.” I’m dying to hear this, but it doesn’t look like Persephone wants to discuss it.

“It’s just… the more I hear about what my mother was like a long time ago, the less I understand her. The less her actions now make sense to me.”

I sit down across from her. She looks agitated, and sad. “And you’re still upset from learning about your brother.”

She nods. “At least with that, it seems she kept it from everyone, not just me.”

“I guess she’s ashamed of it.”

“Yeah. Well, seems like she  _ should _ be. Do you think there’s any chance if I go to the press with the story of what she’s trying to do to me now, that it would stop her?”

I think that over for a minute. “Huh. Well, it’s possible. Her company could get a lot of financial pressure, if you get the public’s sympathy.”

“That’s what Hera thinks I should do. It just seems so… final.”

“Like you’d be burning bridges with her.”

“Yes.” 

Persephone looks down and folds her arms. She looks so defeated. I think we’re not going to get much farther on this problem today.

“Why don’t we go home early, Sweetness?”

“I’m fine. I don’t need any special treatment,” she says crisply. Her shoulders hunch a bit, and she leans protectively over her computer.

“No, I meant for me. I’ve really had it.”

She looks up again, her expression startled. “Oh! Okay. Let’s go, then.”

***

Persephone heads to Elysium the next morning, checking on things there and supervising the intake of a large group of shades. I attempt to get a full day’s work done in half a day. Mid-morning, I head to court, and find today’s shade coordinator there already, frantically readying the courtroom. 

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“Oh, sir! It’s just--there’s a… a  _ murderer _ today.”

“I see.” We haven’t had one in a while. “Can I have the summary?”

The young satyr hands over the file and I sit down to read.

In my experience, many murderers are rather pitiful figures. Often, they’re people who are not in their right minds, or people who have been driven beyond endurance by cruelty and terrible circumstances. Not this one.

According to his file, the mortal shade I’m about to judge is a wealthy, prosperous man from a prominent family. There’s nothing in his early life that’s terribly unusual. He married at a young age, at his father’s arranging, and--

My stomach turns, and my jaw clenches. I feel a rush of chill on my skin. This man beat his young wife to death, because she burned his dinner. I read the sworn testimony of her shade, who died almost fifteen years ago. She was only twenty years old. Just Persephone’s age.

A few years later, he married again, to a widow with two sons. This marriage seemed to be better for a time, but eventually his temper grew sharp again. He began chastising her, over every perceived fault. At first it was a cuff for talking back to him, or a few slaps for spending too much. Eventually he began to beat her for any little thing, including minor mishaps caused by the children. One day he drank too much and accused her of infidelity. He beat her severely, and kicked her, and she died a few days later. I read her shade’s account, too.

By now the cold rage is coiling inside me, ready to explode at the least excuse. I look up into the nervous eyes of the young satyr who is coordinating today. He’s exchanging frantic whispers with the court stenographer and two of the other functionaries. The satyr looks just about ready to flee the room, and I ought to reassure him. I can’t for the life of me remember his name, though. 

“Bring in the shade,” I say.

“Yes sir!” he squeaks. 

The other court employees busy themselves with their various tasks, rather than meet my eye. The shade coordinator flits out the door and reappears in a few moments with a tall shade in tow, with a couple of guards following. The shade is a man of middle years, with light, thinning hair and a wispy beard. He looks around the courtroom with interest. When he sees me, he bows. “Great lord!” he says. “It is an honor to be in your presence!”

I see a wide range of mortals. All of them, eventually. Some are afraid of me, some are quiet and resigned, some are full of wonder. The ones that are brash like this one often raise my suspicions.

“Is it  _ really _ ?” I say. 

I feel my eyes narrow and my skin is ice cold. I’m careful to keep my mouth closed, lest the sharpness of my teeth give warning of my intentions. The shade coordinator is completely freaking out. He’s tapping rapidly on his phone, keeping it shielded from the mortal’s view. I wonder who he’s talking to.

The mortal hesitates, hearing something in my voice that gives him pause, but then his innate arrogance pushes him forward. “I’ve heard about this new thing, a paradise for mortals in the afterlife. Is it true?”

How interesting. I haven’t yet met any shades who have heard about Elysium. “It’s true. Tell me, mortal man, do you think you’ve earned a place?”

The mortal shade preens a bit, and coughs with false modesty. “Well, I gave money to feed the poor, and I served in my city’s army, and later in the assembly. I tried to be a good citizen. I was always fair and honest in my business dealings, as well.”

“I see. And in your personal life?” 

The mortal tilts his head as if he doesn’t understand my question. “Well, I honored my father’s teaching and obeyed his wishes all his life. I raised my stepchildren and paid for their schooling, and taught them to be good citizens.” He smiles, as if these things will outweigh his terrible crimes.

The door in the back of the courtroom opens, and Persephone steps through, followed by all three Furies, dressed in their Mortal Realm uniforms. The moment my beloved is in sight, my eyes are locked on hers, and hers on mine. She’s wearing her best peplos, the embroidered one she keeps at work. There are black roses, oak leaves, and nettles in her hair. I have no need to consult my notebook to decipher the meaning behind  _ that.  _

Slowly, everyone in the room becomes aware that I’m looking at her, and not the accused shade. All eyes turn to watch the small pink goddess and her entourage walk down the central aisle, past the big table, and approach the throne. Persephone’s eyes are on the mortal wretch. When he finally turns and looks over his shoulder to see her, he cringes back, falls to his knees, and begins to whine.

I wish with all my heart that Persephone could come all the way up the dais and sit with me. For this situation, even more than any other, I want her to have her proper role at my side. I know she won’t, though. She comes to a halt at the foot of the dais, staring at the mortal.The Furies fan out around the kneeling mortal. I rise and step down from the throne.

I hold my arm out to Persephone, and she rests her fingers on my wrist, formal and dignified. Her gaze never wavers from the sobbing mortal man. In contrast, he is absolutely shrinking from her, unable to meet her eyes. I wait a few moments to see if he’s going to get control of himself. He doesn’t, so I speak in a ringing voice, to cut through his sniveling.

“I’m aware you’ve never had the privilege of seeing a goddess before, mortal man. It’s no wonder that you should be robbed of your speech and reminded of the terrible weight of your sins upon being honored by the presence of the immortal lady who created the place you seek to enter.”

The man flinches away from my words. “Gentle goddess! Great lord! Have mercy upon a weak and impulsive mortal!”

I make a noise of disgust. As if this insincere and contrived admission would stay my hand from such an evildoer. “You married not one, but two good women, and you never understood the excellent fortune you had. You mocked them, belittled them, you cast them into the dirt. You  _ struck _ them. When you were immersed in wine, you beat them, and you finally lost control and hurt each of them so badly that they died of their injuries. And you were  _ sorry _ afterwards, and you told yourself that it was their fault, that they misbehaved and made you angry.” 

The Furies all hiss, hearing this. Their snake hair writhes around their heads, adding to the mortal shade’s terror. Persephone turns to look at me; her eyes are cold and her jaw is set. 

“My lady,” I say. “Will you pronounce this man’s sentence?”

She stares at me for a moment, a little startled, but hiding it well. She draws a deep breath, and turns back to the mortal.

“Mortal man, you are a murderer and a bully,” she says, her voice cracking like a whip. “You will spend eternity in Tartarus, with others who cannot understand that people have the right to their own lives.”

I nod, satisfied, and gesture to the guards. “Take this scum from our sight.”

Persephone’s cool fingers grip my wrist tightly. The smiles of satisfaction upon the Furies’s faces are fearsome to behold.

***

We’re quiet through the whole drive to Olympus, contemplating the ceremony we’re about to attend. I haven’t seen an Apotheosis in centuries: Zeus isn’t generally in favor of promoting uppity mortals. I’ve never particularly cared about the outcome before today. It’s nerve-wracking, realizing that Psyche may be dead in a few hours.

I glance over at Persephone; she’s looking out the window. Her expression is closed and serious. She, too, is afraid for our friend. I wish I could offer some words of comfort, but there’s nothing I can say. 

When we arrive at Zeus and Hera’s, Persephone takes my arm and we enter together. A servant directs us away from the main gathering in the ballroom, to a side room where close friends and family are making preparations. Apparently everyone has been waiting on our arrival, because Zeus begins as soon as we arrive. He gestures for Psyche to stand before him, and all conversation in the room ceases.

“Psyche, you have been judged and found worthy,” Zeus intones. “Today you will be offered the cup of immortality, but you must choose your Sponsor. You will live and be immortal, or you will die, and your choice matters. Who shall give you this cup?”

Psyche raises her nervous eyes from the floor and looks at him. “Spring is rebirth, yes? I choose Persephone. ”

There’s a slight murmur, as everyone in the room turns to look at Persephone with surprise. I feel her tensing up under my arm. 

Zeus speaks again, looking at my beloved. “Persephone, Goddess of Spring, will you accept this burden of Sponsorship?”

She draws a breath shakily, but her voice is firm. “I will.”

“Very well. Hecate, will you explain the Sponsor’s duties to her? We shall all convene in the main hall for the ceremony as soon as everyone is ready.”

Persephone glances up at me, and then goes over to join Hecate and Psyche to discuss their roles in the coming ceremony. 

Eros is quietly freaking out nearby, being comforted by Aphrodite and Hera. I imagine that the danger is suddenly very real to him, and he’s terrified of losing Psyche.

I stand quietly in the corner and watch the others. I can tell that most people are surprised by Psyche’s choice. Zeus and Artemis seem to be discussing it with mutual confusion. They expected her to choose Aphrodite or Eros, or perhaps Hera. I smile to myself. Psyche chose extremely wisely. I’m starting to relax. I think it’s all going to be all right.

Hecate seems to be wrapping things up, and Psyche goes to hug Eros, so I walk over to join Persephone.

“Just keep your cool, and it should be okay,” Hecate is saying. 

Persephone nods, and looks up at me inquiringly.

“Would you like this? For luck?” I hold out Ione’s Eye to her, warm from my pocket, and she beams at me. She reaches out and brushes her fingers over my palm, touching the stone for a moment. I think it feels even warmer, from her touch.

“Thank you, but I would rather you go on holding my luck for me. That’s been working out very well.”

“All right. I’m happy to do that.”

“Can I borrow your knife, though?”

“Of course.” I take it from my pocket and hand it to her.

“Are you ready, honey?” Hecate asks.

“Yes. Let’s get this done.”

We join the throng all walking over to the main ballroom, which is packed full of curious immortals, eager to see if a new being will join our ranks today. There’s a raised dais at one end of the room and all the friends and family mount it, making a loose circle and leaving the center empty.

Psyche kisses Eros tenderly, and then takes center stage. Persephone joins her, giving her hand a squeeze. There are yellow and purple flowers in Psyche’s hair, real physical ones that she chose, and now the same ones are blooming in Persephone’s hair, too. I make a note of them, and plan to look them up later. I haven’t noticed these ones before.

Eros moves from between his parents and comes to stand next to me, gripping my arm tightly. Zeus and Hera stand together, facing into the room, presiding but not conducting this event. That role is left to some of our youngest members. Hebe enters the circle and stands between her parents. The waiting audience hushes, and Persephone begins. 

“Psyche, mortal woman, daughter of Aristides and Damaris, beloved of Eros,” she says, in a carrying voice. “Are you ready to risk death? Are you ready to drink from the cup of immortality?”

“I am ready.” Psyche’s voice is clear and strong, but her gaze darts around until she spots me. “Hades, you will remember?” the mortal woman asks.

I know what she means. “Of course. But it won’t be necessary.” 

Eros looks at me, his eyes wide and terrified. He wants me to explain, but I just put my arm around his shoulder. It’s better he doesn’t know.

Hebe walks up to Psyche and Persephone. The young goddess is holding a deep cup, made of wrought gold by her brother Hephaestus. It’s full to the brim with pale ambrosia, more than most of us have ever seen at one time. Persephone takes my knife from her pocket and flicks it open. She pricks one finger and allows a drop of her ichor to fall into the cup.

I exchange a glance with Hecate, who nods in approval. She’s right; Persephone is making a proper dramatic show of this. She takes the cup now from Hebe and lifts it high for all to see, then slowly lowers it, holding it out to Psyche.

Our mortal friend takes a step forward, her eyes meeting Persephone’s, and places her hands around the cup, too. The two of them tilt it carefully, and bring it to Psyche’s lips. It’s important that none of it spills once she begins drinking. If it does, Psyche will die.

Her golden eyes open wide at her first mouthful, and she makes a choked sound, but she swallows. 

“Keep going,” Persephone whispers.

Psyche does, continuing to take small amounts, but I can see already that her knees are trembling and her eyes are watering. She gives a small shriek of pain and slowly collapses to her knees. Persephone maintains her hold on the cup and not a drop is spilled.

None of the younger ones have ever seen this. They’re a bit stunned. We older ones have, but it’s never been like this before. Usually when there’s an Apotheosis, the recipient drinks the cup, moans about a bellyache for a while, then either drops dead or rises up, fresh and godly. Not so, today.

Psyche is wailing in pain, holding the cup with both hands over Persephone’s. She must not stop. If she doesn’t consume the entire cup, she’ll die. Across the circle from where I stand, I see Hera gather Hebe to her, pulling her daughter in, hiding the child’s face so she can’t see.

Eros clings to me, his hands digging frantically into my shoulders, tears spilling down his face. His wings flutter helplessly, bumping into the people around us. His instincts demand that he run to help his lover, but he can’t. If he interferes, she’ll die. 

The mortal woman’s noises reach a new pitch, her agony clear to everyone present. The people around me are cringing in sympathy, covering their faces so as not to watch. Ares and Aphrodite cling together, looking away. They believe it’s going wrong.

Persephone maintains a grim face, holding the cup of immortality tilted, murmuring words of encouragement to her friend. “You  _ must _ keep going,” I hear her say. “You can do it!”

There’s a faint mist around Psyche now, and I dart a glance to Hermes nearby. He sees me looking at him, and shakes his head sadly. He sees what I see. Psyche’s soul is trying to flee. The pain and stress are too much for her. As I watch, the mist around her stretches: she’s struggling to break the bond between her body and her shade, and every bit of the ambrosia pouring down her throat weakens that connection.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper.

“What? What’s happening?” Eros demands, wild with fear. He can’t see what I do, but he can see it isn’t going well. He can see Psyche’s pain. I tighten my arm around him. It’s all I can do.

Persephone makes a sound I’ve never heard from her before: a fierce, feral growl. She removes one hand from the cup and slaps it to Psyche’s forehead, bracing herself, leaning hard against the mortal woman. “Drink!” she commands, her voice ringing in the silent hall. I can see, with a sure sense of premonition,  _ exactly _ what’s going to happen. And it is  _ breathtaking. _

I feel the sharp tingle of my lover’s power, and she’s--she’s actually  _ pushing _ Psyche’s soul back where it belongs. She captures the diluted threads of our friend’s essence, integrating them, forcing them into coherence. The mist around Psyche contracts, concentrates around her head, gathering substance.

This is related to what I knew Persephone could do, raising the mortal dead, but this--this is like weaving an intricate tapestry with her eyes closed. Psyche’s soul is trying to shatter into a million pieces, and Persephone simply won’t permit it.

“Drink!” she repeats, tilting the cup. 

Psyche’s sobs are anguished, but she obeys. The cup tilts farther and farther back, until finally Psyche gasps, and Persephone pulls it away. She checks, and shows the audience. It’s empty. She takes a few steps back, and all eyes focus on Psyche.

The mortal woman is trembling violently, her arms folded around her middle, breathing in sharp, staccato bursts. Her eyes are closed, and tears are leaking out, but her skin is glowing, as if she’s lit from within. The mist is just a faint aura around her body now. This is a good sign, I think. Eros begins to whimper, straining against my arm, desperate to go to her. 

“No, you can’t,” I tell him. “Leave her be.”

Psyche lets out a wild screech, high-pitched and wordless. Her arms stretch out to her sides, hands fisted, trembling as if she’s struggling against some force. Which perhaps she is.

Persephone stands quietly watching her. She seems to be doing nothing, but I can feel her power still tingling my skin. She continues to stitch together the peripheral bits of Psyche’s shade, forcing our friend into balance once again. I feel the moment that Persephone completes the work: she  _ shoves _ Psyche’s soul back into place, and Hermes gasps. He sees what I see: the mist is gone. Psyche is whole.

Psyche’s wail cuts off abruptly and her eyes open. The gold of her pupils shines like actual gold, like lamps in the darkness. She pants, and gazes up at Persephone, her expression one of wonderment. Slowly her arms lower from their tense position. Her fists unclench and she gazes at her own hands, as if amazed to find that she survived.

Persephone gives the cup back to Hebe and holds her hands out to Psyche, helping her to her feet. “Welcome, sister!” she says, and kisses the new goddess’s cheek.

Eros lets out a cry of relief, and a new flood of tears. He stumbles away from me and Psyche runs into his arms.

***

Every one of the immortals in the room wishes to greet the new goddess and welcome her as one of us. A line forms, starting with all the people on the dais. Zeus and Hera greet Psyche, then Ares and Aphrodite, Hermes and Hecate. Eros stands with her, glowing with pride and relief, and Persephone looks on, beaming with gentle benevolence.

When it’s my turn, Psyche releases Eros in order to hug me. “Thank you!” she whispers. “I will never forget your part in making this day happen.”

I smile gently. I have less to do with it than she thinks, but her gratitude warms me. “Welcome, sister,” I say, and kiss her cheek.

I move over to join Persephone. Usually, I’m very careful about using my physical presence to intimidate people, but today, I make the most of it. I close in on Persephone, turning my back on the crowd of admirers vying for her attention, and take her hands. 

“Hello, little goddess.”

She smiles up at me. “Hello, yourself. Thanks for the rescue.”

I lift her hand and kiss it, then hold it against my cheek. “I didn’t do anything. But you--you are  _ amazing. _ I don’t think I say it enough as it is, but what you did today goes beyond everything I thought was possible.”

Persephone blushes and looks down, then back up at me, through her eyelashes. The little flirt. “I just did what I had to. Total instinct.”

I nod. That’s how it is, really. You do what you have to. “Yes. But you’re one of the rare people who can back that up.” 

I’m looking straight into her eyes, and she doesn’t look away, but her cheeks flush a darker pink. It makes her freckles stand out more, and I watch in fascination. 

“Do you think--” she breaks off and glances around us, checking for anyone listening, but they’re all fawning over Psyche. “Do you know if there’s anywhere we can go for some privacy?” She bites her lip.

I try very hard to control my expression, or everyone around is going to know exactly what we’re up to. My inappropriately-timed arousal from earlier returns in full. “I’m sure we can find a place.” 

***

Shortly, we find ourselves in Zeus’s library: a room which, as far as I can tell, he keeps for show rather than actual use. It’s a beautiful space, two stories tall and lined with gleaming leather-bound books, and two smaller side spaces. I lead Persephone to one of these.

This area has a seat built into the far wall, and a tied-back curtain. I release the curtain, giving us a little privacy. Persephone looks around. “Interesting choice,” she says.

“What can I say, I think you deserve better than bathrooms.”

“The best thing about bathrooms is that they lock. But this could be fun.” She sways over to the bookshelf. There’s a ladder there, the sort that has wheels and is mounted on a track that goes around the room. Persephone climbs two steps and stops, one foot on the third rung. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at me.

I stalk up behind her. “What are you thinking, little goddess?”

She clings to the rails at the side of the ladder and leans toward me, her head tilting back and hair swinging down. “I’m thinking how much fun I could have, being this tall!”

I laugh, and grab hold of the rails, below her hands. I pull the ladder a short distance along its wheels. “You want to go for a ride, then?”

Persephone leans far enough back to rest her head on my shoulder. She arches her back and lets her ass rub up against me. “Yes. A ride is  _ exactly _ what I have in mind.”

“I thought it might be.” I hover my lips over her neck, letting my breath tickle her. I wrap one arm around her waist, fitting my hand to her hip, pulling her against my body.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Yes. Please touch me.”

I nuzzle her ear and kiss her lightly. “Oh, I  _ do _ like an invitation like that.”

"Are you going to accept it?"

I flick my tongue along the tendons of Persephone's neck and settle to her shoulder, nipping. "How is that even a question?"

I begin gathering her skirt in my free hand. It's very fluffy, with many layers, and it requires a bit of burrowing before my hand finds its way through the garments to the goddess underneath. Beneath all the fabric, her legs are parted, and I stroke the silky skin between the tops of her stockings and her panties. "So soft," I murmur. 

"Maybe so." Persephone turns her head to kiss me, capturing my lips in her own and probing with her tongue. "But  _ you're _ not."

She grinds her hips firmly against mine, positioning herself perfectly so my erection is caught between the globes of her ass.

"You are so right." I trail my fingers up her inner thighs, exploring the edge of her panties. There's a tremendous heat pouring from her, and as I stroke I start to feel some moisture seeping through the fabric. With my other hand, I begin massaging upwards, across her belly, cupping a round, soft breast.

Persephone continues kissing me, her tongue darting in my mouth, tangling with mine. I suck on her bottom lip and slip one finger under the edge of her panties, finding her slick, hot center. She moans and sways her back, trying to grind into me some more, but I lean away. 

“Are you going to tease me?” Persephone asks, a certain note in her voice. Is she asking me to? I hope not.

“No. Quite the contrary.” 

I open my trousers, and then return my hand under her skirt, tugging her panties down and her skirt up. I rub myself against her silky, welcoming heat. 

Persephone moans, arching. “Yes!” she hisses.

“Don’t make a sound, little goddess.” 

I slide into her tight passage, catching her lips at the same time. She tries very hard to obey me, but it’s difficult for her. A few gasps and snorts escape her, and a tiny squeak. There’s not a thing I can do about the slapping, wet sounds our bodies make, coming together. Well, nothing but slow down, and I don’t want to.

***

The gathering in the ballroom has turned into a raucous celebration, when it very nearly was a funeral service. Narrowly-evaded doom is making everyone especially indulgent. Alcohol is flowing fast, and the laughter and boisterous behavior is running high.

I turn from the bar with a scotch in one hand and Persephone’s champagne cocktail in the other, to find my brothers waiting for me. Their arms folded, grinning at me.

Zeus holds up a finger. “Let me see if I've interpreted events correctly. Did you just actually score at an Apotheosis? With the Sponsor?”

I sip my scotch and say nothing.

Poseidon giggles, shaking his head. “Shit, man, this is even better than going at it the second Demeter’s back is turned.”

I inhale a bit of scotch and start coughing. Dammit, I should have known that they heard. Persephone is not actually very good at staying quiet, and frankly, I’m not much better. Not with her.

“Seriously, how is it after all this time that we’re just learning this about you?” Zeus asks.

“Learning what?” I ask, still coughing a little.

“That you like it dangerous. Risky locations, the chance of being caught. You like people overhearing you, maybe?” Zeus exchanges an evil leer with Poseidon. The two of them really are disgusting when they get going.

“Pssh, nah, man, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s  _ Persephone _ who likes it risky!” cheers Poseidon.

“You two need to get a hobby, and mind your own realms.” I take a step to the side, trying to get away from them.

“Aw, c’mon, you’re not giving us an answer?” Zeus asks, slapping my shoulder.

“No. Not a chance.” 

I spot Persephone, chatting with Artemis, and stride toward her. Unfortunately my brothers do not take the hint, but keep following after me.

“So anyway, I’ll talk to you more later,” Artemis says. She pats Persephone’s arm and turns away to another conversation.

“Oh, thank you,” Persephone says, taking her drink. “I was really thirsty.” She lets her eyes crinkle at me while she takes a sip.

My brothers have still not relented. “Hey, there, Persephone,” says Poseidon. “You enjoying the party?” 

“Certainly,” she says. “Are you?”

“Probably not as much as you are,” Zeus leers.

“Honestly, are you two developmentally frozen at age twelve? What is  _ wrong _ with you?” I snap.

“Oooh, look who’s so sensitive and mature all of a sudden,” grins Zeus.

“Is this some kind of sibling thing that I wouldn’t get?” Persephone asks.

Poseidon actually looks kind of contrite. “Yeah, probably. Speaking of which, did you get to speak to Arion?”

“Yes,” Persephone replies. “But it was very brief. I guess he got overwhelmed.”

Zeus is losing interest in a conversation that’s not about him or sex. He wanders off.

“Well, I’m not surprised, he gets like that. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you, or anything like that. I suggest you keep trying.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you for the encouragement.”

I sip my scotch and enjoy listening to my brother being friendly with my girlfriend. It’s a lovely feeling, when two people I care about like each other’s company, too.

***

For an impromptu party, this one certainly seems to have some longevity to it. The relief everyone feels, seeing Psyche nearly die but then miraculously pull through, is lending a special air of festivity. Plus Hera is being lavish with the food and drink. I imagine she’s greatly relieved by the outcome, too. 

Persephone and I made no plans for this evening, since we had no idea whether we’d be in mourning or not. I make the rounds, having a number of conversations with people. It seems to me that there’s a lot more people these days who are willing to be seen being friendly with me. It’s an interesting phenomenon.

At one point I cross paths with Eros, who throws himself into my arms with an enthusiastic hug. He’s had quite a bit of champagne, I’m guessing.

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you!” he says. He’s not controlling his volume very well.

“I didn’t do anything. It’s Persephone you should thank.”

“I did! Oh, I did, believe me. But you, too, man! You’re the best. The absolute best!” He hiccups slightly, and then hugs me again, pounding me on the back.

“Well, okay. You’re welcome,” I tell him. “Here, I have those stones for you.” I take a small box out of my pocket and hand it over. It contains the gemstones I made to Eros’s specifications, for Psyche’s engagement ring.

“Awesome, thank you! I’m going to ask her this weekend,” he says, in a stage whisper. “What about you?”

I have no idea if Persephone told him about her mother’s letter. Probably not, given that he was preoccupied with today’s event. 

“Soon,” I reply. 

I’m not sure when. I had thought I would ask her next Saturday night, when we have our six-month celebration dinner, but now I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. “Hey, you know, I do miss having you guys around. We should all have dinner together.”

“Yes! Let’s have our own engagement party,” Eros says. 

I don’t have the heart to disappoint him. I just smile and nod. He spots Hermes and starts a conversation, and I take the opportunity to wander away. 

I look for Persephone. I’m at a disadvantage in crowded parties like this; with Persephone’s height it can be very hard for me to find her. Today it’s not so bad, though. She’s talking with Hera, and everyone gives them a bit of space.

“Hello,” I say, joining them.

“Hello, Hades,” says Hera. “You’ll excuse me, I have to get Hebe to bed.”

Persephone takes my arm as Hera leaves us, and smiles up at me. “Are you getting bored yet?”

“Maybe a little. Are you having a good time?”

She gives me a slow smile. “I’m pretty much done here. Let’s go home and try out that new couch.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Red
> 
> Flower symbolism:
> 
> Persephone's flowers in court are black roses, oak leaves, and nettles. They symbolize rebirth, strength, and death.
> 
> Psyche's flowers are anemone and amaranth. They symbolize undying love and immortality.


End file.
